Life Lessons Learned

Change is so hard. 

Life is always moving, shifting and you are constantly changing your direction and pace.

But sometimes you are forced to make such an abrupt turn that you get lost.

You feel alone.

And you realize that you can't go back to where you once were.

That is when you know you have to keep pushing forward, not look back, but focus on the future.

That is the goal.  The difficult task at hand. 

With time you will chart a new course and see a bright new beginning instead of a frustrating dead end.

It is often easier to see the light at the end of a dark road when you are older.  Previous experiences and perspective gets you through, where when you were younger you might have had to slug it out a bit longer before you found your solution.

But we certainly don't go through life alone.

There are many that share our journey.

The true challenge is when it's not you who gets lost. 

It's not you that feels forgotten, but your child.

Change is hard, especially if you are a boy in fifth grade.

Where you once were surrounded by a school of friends.  Where kids would call out your name in the hallway and you had four years of shared memories and stories.  You were a social butterfly. 

You felt at home.  You were accepted.  You were completely happy.  Blissful almost.  You loved school.  You were a chatter box with endless details about so and so and this and that everyday when you walked in the door.

Then you moved.  And the school wasn't the same.  You were the new kid.  Probably the only one in fifth grade. 

You feel lost in the shuffle.

As a mother, your heart aches.  Your eyes weep and your stomach is in knots.  You feel their pain and wish you could absorb it.  Heal their wounds.  Make them whole.

Your mind races with questions.  What can I do?  What should I do?  What will the outcome be?

It's only been a few weeks, but as I sat across the lunch room table from him today and he told me how he usually sits in any open spot, usually on the 'loner table' I struggled with what to say. 

A few days before he told me he had sat alone.  I promised him I would come to school every day and join him for lunch.  If it would help.  He smiled, but I knew that would not be the fix he needed.

I asked about his friend Micah.  Trey said he often goes through the line first and there are no seats by him when Trey gets his food. 

As I sat next to him, we were surrounded by a sea of new faces, strangers really.   I wished I could see one real friend that would appreciate my son for who he is.   That would be there for him.

I am hopeful that will happen.

Trey certainly has put himself out there.  He went to the student council meeting and is planning on running.  He tried out for the morning show before school today.  He has great friends down the street.  His teacher even told me last night he was tall and confident and seemed to be adjusting well.

Those are the answers to my prayers.  The words I cling to when I hear about another lonely day, or the dread of the length of the school year, or the plea that our next school will be different.

Trey's a great kid.  I know he'll make it through. 

But at that moment in the lunchroom, as I stared at his blue eyes, his messy sandy blond hair, his lanky skinny frame, I saw MY little boy.  My baby that have loved from the minute he was born. 

In that brief moment, I thought of him as a baby sleeping in his carrier while I worked at my dad's office.  I pictured a wiggly little fella strapped in his high chair at Cafe Rio while my mom and I had our weekly lunch date.  I saw that toddler who gave me hugs and kisses when we first moved to Kentucky and I was lonely for home.  I saw that small five year old who would hold court at preschool and tell the class the 'real story' about Jesus.  The teacher called him her 'Preacher Man'. 

I saw the young man that I love.  That I know is wonderful.  Who loves to laugh.  Who loves to read.  Who loves to learn.  Who loves to have fun.  Who really is a lot like ME.

I wondered how I can often be so hard. I can demand a lot at times, especially when you're the oldest of six. I need an example. I need help. I need Trey to rise to the occasion and at times when he doesn't quiet get there, I need to help him through those last few steps instead of pulling him down and making him start again.

I also could see the man I hope he can become.  One who can do hard things.  Who doesn't give up.  Who will trek through his area knocking door after door on his mission.  Who sees the value of hard work.  Who gained knowledge from tough times and used it to make him a better person.  Who has empathy for others.  Who will lend a helping hand to those who need a lift.

When I left the lunch room, so many thoughts were racing through my mind. I was trying to keep my emotions in check. 

As time has passed and I've tried to sort it all out, I can see a more broad picture thn I did at first glance.

Trey's a great kid and I am sure this will pass.  The school year is young and I know he'll make new friends, it might just take a little longer than I had hoped.

Our current situation is temporary. This might be a brief rough patch in life, but it will get smoother. Life will get better.

He will always have those precious memories of the great times in Lexington.  It really was a magical place.

My real hope is that this test will help mold Trey.  It will make him more flexible.  It will make him stronger.  It will stretch him so he can do more later.  Love more.  Laugh more. Work more.  Help more.  It will help him become that person that I know he can be.  That Heavenly Father wants him to become.

Change is hard.  Life is hard. 

But Trey can do hard things. 

Especially when you have a big heart.  A bright smile.  A fun personality. A HUGE cheering section at home.  And a Heavenly Father that knows what we need and will help us through.